


I Will Remember You

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Implied/Referenced Underage Relationship(s), Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Memory Related, No Sex, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Pre-Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 12:32:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10639923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Sam jumped into the Cage to save the world, he left Dean with nothing more than memories. But memories fade over time, they change and shift and mutate, and all Dean's got now is time - and those memories.





	

Sam’s smile shines brighter than the sun itself in Dean’s eyes. Barely sixteen, all legs and arms and too much hair but so, so perfect.

Running in that open field behind the no-name motel they were staying at in Minnetonka. No – Redwood. No, it was –

Where was it?

Dean’s eyes flew open, adjusting to the darkness with the speed only a hunter could. Lisa’s bedroom. Soft, fluffy comforter and expensive pillows. Lisa’s body pressed tight against his – But where was that field?

Dean crawled out of the bed as quietly as he could, tugging on his sleep pants and padding into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of beer without thinking about it and stepping into the dark night. The concrete was cold under his bare feet as he wandered to the porch swing, the worn wood frame groaning when he sat.

Where was that field? Where was that motel?

Minnetonka – no, that was where they hunted that jackalope.

Redwood? No – that was where Sam almost crashed the Impala.

Lost Springs? Was that it? No—Lost Springs was where… Dean couldn’t remember. How could he forget where they were?

That was the most important moment of his damn teenage life. Well – just out of teen. He’d been twenty. Or was he twenty-one?

No, he was twenty-one when Dad finally—

Or was he twenty-two?

Dean leaned forward, rubbing his temples with one gun callused hand, screwing his eyes shut. He gripped the beer bottle tighter in his other hand, the cold glass chilling him further—

 

_\--but it felt so good. The sun was blistering hot and the air conditioner in the motel was broken. Dean was sitting under the shade of a tree in nothing but a pair of threadbare jeans. The dirt was cool and comforting as he dug his bare toes into it, watching Sam throw a ball for a stray dog they’d found the day before._

_Dad would kill them if they didn’t get rid of it before he came back, but he wouldn’t be back for a few days; Sam could enjoy this._

_Dean’s face brightened immediately when Sam looked over at him. His smile is so bright, more blinding than the hot Texas sun could ever be. His jeans were barely hanging onto his bony hips – the kid needed to eat more – Dean could see his ribs when he stretched his arm back to chuck the ball for the dirty mutt._

_“Dee, come play!” Sam’s voice was still cracking – puberty was slow for his little brother._

_“I’m cooling off, come sit with me, gonna give that dog heat stroke if he keeps running like that!”_

_Sam hesitated, and Dean could see him considering – the way his forehead rolled up when he was deep in thought. Deciding, he made his way over to Dean, the stray Jack Russell trotting behind him._

_Schnauzer. No—Bulldog?_

_No. What type of dog was it?_

 

Dean opened his eyes, scowling at his feet. Sam loved that dumb dog. He cried when Dean took it to the shelter. What the hell type was it? Its name was Bullet. No. Zeppelin. No—Damnit.

“Damnit,” Dean hissed, leaning back on the swing and staring up at the full moon.

They were in Texas. The motel was right outside of Chappell Hill, Dad had been hunting a rash of vengeful spirits. Sam was sixteen, so Dean had to be twenty. At least he remembered that. The dog didn’t matter – it was just a dumb mutt. Sam was who mattered. And he’d never forget Sam, no matter what.

 

It’d been four months since Dean had lost Sam in Stull Cemetery. Four months since Sam saved the damn world and no one knew a thing. Four months with Lisa, playing happy, trying to get better. Two months since his last nightmare.

But the dreams didn’t go away, and he was thankful for that. Lisa always got a shadow over her face when he talked about Sam – but she couldn’t expect him not to. Sam was Dean’s whole world, he couldn’t just forget.

Dean let his eyes slip shut, trying to bring back the memory. There was a breeze tonight, ruffling his short hair. Dean sighed—

 

\-- _grumbling about the hot wind that blew across his already clammy skin. Sam flopped down next to him, grabbing the beer before he could say no and taking a swig._

_“You’re too young for that,” Dean chided without much venom, taking the beer back._

_“It’s hot out and no one’s looking.”_

_“Grab some change and get a soda from the vending machine. Dad’ll kill me if he finds out I let you drink.”_

_Sam laughed and wiggled close to him, their sweat soaked skin sticking together. It would have grossed Dean out if it was anyone but Sam. Sam was an exception to all the rules, it seemed._

_“We need all our money in case Dad doesn’t come back for a while.”_

_Dean sighed, stroking Sam’s sweaty bangs back from his face. “Don’t worry about money, Sammy. I told you I got it covered.”_

_Sam huffed, looking up at Dean. “I don’t like that. I know what you do to get money, Dean.”_

_“Play pool?” Dean scoffed, taking a drink to hide any guilt on his face._

_“You don’t just play pool. I saw you, Dean.”_

_Dean looked down, a little surprised at the hurt expression on Sam’s face._

_“I—I’m an adult, Sam. I can do what I want.”_

_Sam’s chin quivered a little, making him look much younger than sixteen._

_“What?” Dean asked, angrier than he meant to sound. Sam leaned up, pressing his mouth to Dean’s before he’d even finished the final syllable._

_He tasted like salt and cheap beer and peppermint toothpaste. And under it all was_ Sam _. Sweet little Sammy._

_He shouldn’t do this. This was wrong and it wasn’t ever going to be okay, but goddammit he wanted this. He was so afraid to love Sam, but more afraid of losing him. He wanted all of it – he wanted Sam._

 

Dean didn’t realize he was smiling in the moonlight as his mind played through the memory. It was the one thing Dean could always fall back on, no matter how tough times got.

Sam running to Stanford, losing Dad, Hell, Ruby, demon blood, Lucifer, and now losing Sam again – This memory was Dean’s safe space. The one time in his life that he could think of without it being tinged with monsters and blood and pain and tears. Without it being twisted by death as all his other childhood memories had. Just pure happiness.

So, he drew on it again and again, allowed it to become his therapy.

And now, when he knew there was no bringing Sam back, it was the purest memory he had of the one person that meant the world to him. He’d always remember Sam. Their memories together – it was all he had.

 

“Dean?”

Dean’s eyes snapped open and he looked toward the door of the house. Lisa was standing in the open doorway, her robe pulled tight over her thin nightgown.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, I woke up to use the bathroom and saw you gone. I was afraid you’d wandered off again.”

“No, just—Can’t sleep,” Dean whispered.

“Nightmares again?” She stepped out, her worn slippers shuffling on the concrete. She sat next to Dean, letting her small hand rest on his leg.

“No – Just memories.”

“Sam,” Her voice was tinged with pain. She knew the truth – not the explicit details, those were Dean’s and his alone – but she knew enough.

“I’m sorry, Lisa.”

“Don’t be. He was your only family.”

Dean snorted, taking a swallow of the beer he’d opened during his daydream. “He was a helluva lot more than that.”

“Yeah, I guess so. It’s freezing out here, Dean – why don’t you at least come in and sit on the couch. You’re going to be kicking yourself if you catch a cold.”

“I’ll be okay. I slept in a car or crap motels with no heat for years – a little cool air ain’t gonna kill me.”

“Are you sure?”

Dean nodded, offering her what he hoped was a comforting smile. He set his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll be in a little later.”

Lisa sighed softly and nodded, standing. She tightened the robe around her middle and looked down at him for a moment before shaking her head, walking back into the house.

Dean waited until she slipped back inside before letting his head rest on the back of the swing, bringing the memory forward again and dwelling in it.

 

***

 

“Aren’t you tired?”

Dean looked around the open hood of the Impala he was tuning up. “What?”

“It’s two in the morning, Dean.”

“Oh—Yeah, just can’t sleep.”

“It’s…”

“Six months. Just gimme the night.”

Lisa sighed softly and crossed into the garage, pressing a kiss to Dean’s cheek. “Don’t forget you’re supposed to meet Sid tomorrow for poker. I’ll be in bed.”

He nodded, watching her leave before reaching his grease covered hand back into the car.

Six months since Sam jumped into the pit. Dean _had_ gotten better. He held down a steady job, he had friends, he knew how to take care of Ben and Lisa – but there was still a gaping hole in his heart that nothing could fill. Not drinking, not sex, not laughter or smiles. A Sam shaped hole that would be there until the day he died.

As Dean tightened and tweaked bits of the Impala that had been his and Sam’s home for so long, he let his mind wander again, to that memory that continued to exist as his only source of true comfort.

 

_A cold beer in hand, stretched out in a chair in the field in the middle of Oklahoma. The sun beta down on his freckled skin, the humid weather making every movement uncomfortable. Sam was chasing a stray Irish setter around, throwing a stick for it._

_“Dean! Come play with us!” Sam’s voice was like raindrops in the desert, a smile brighter than the sun above them._

_“Why don’t you come sit with me instead? You’re gonna die of heat stroke,” Dean chided, sitting up a little further in the chair._

_Sam loped up to him, wiping sweat from his brow. Dad had just forced him to get a haircut – and just in time considering the one-hundred-and-whatever degree weather they were stuck in for the next few weeks. He snagged the beer from Dean’s hand and took a long swill, passing it back and flopping into the empty chair at Dean’s right._

_“Dad’s gonna kill you if he finds out you’ve been drinking, Sammy. Why don’t you go grab a soda from the vending machine?”_

_“We don’t have the money. Plus, you drink.”_

_“I’m almost of age.”_

_Sam huffed, leaning over and trying to snag the beer again. Dean pulled it away. “What’ll you gimme for it?”_

_Sam bit his lip, looking years younger than sixteen before leaning up, catching Dean’s mouth in a gentle, inexperienced kiss._

Dean sighed, stepping back and wiping his hands free of grease before closing the hood. He should get back inside to Lisa but—

He circled around to the passenger side of the car and slipped in it, feeling strange on Sam’s side. Closing his eyes, Dean swore he could smell him – cheap cologne, that damn shampoo Sam insisted on buying, and hiding from Dean, and the musk that was Sam’s unique scent.

Time became an abstract concept as Dean sat, picturing Sam and their life together before that agonizing moment.

Most days it was like standing at the edge of a deep abyss. He wanted to scream at the world for taking away his Sammy – but no one would be there to hear him.

 

At some point in his daydream, he drifted off to sleep.

 

***

 

“So, what was your first kiss like?” Sid asked, taking a long drink of his beer. Dean laughed a little.

“First kiss? Um… I can barely remember, it was a long time ago.”

“You can’t remember your first kiss, man?”

“I remember the first one that _mattered_ – but not my first one ever.”

Sid shrugged. “Then that counts as your first one. What was it?”

Dean laughed a little. “You don’t wanna know.”

“Oh, come on, I told you mine.”

“Yeah, but mine was with a guy,” Dean said slowly, picking at the label on his beer bottle. He dared a glance up at Sid, expecting disgust or—something on his face. Instead Sid was just watching him, waiting for him to continue.

“What? Did you expect me to run for the hills? So you’re into dudes too – I don’t care. You’ve never creeped on me, and you’re my friend,” Sid explained when Dean stayed silent. His mouth quirked into a smile.

“Just one dude. The guy I was with for a long time before I got with Lisa.”

“Tell me about it,” Sid implored again.

Dean sighed softly and smiled a little. “Well I was twenty, or maybe twenty-one. It was with a guy that’d been in my life… Pretty much my whole life. He was playing in this empty lot in Arkansas while we were waiting for ou—my Dad to come back from his business trip and he was just… So damn beautiful. He ran up to me – it was like ninety degrees outside and he was just dripping sweat, so he grabs my beer and drinks it,” Dean laughed a little, shaking his head and taking a sip of his own beer.

“I get after him, he was sixteen or seventeen, not even close to being legal age and Dad would have _killed_ me if he found out he’d been drinking. So, we start talking and he just leans up and—He kisses me. Square on the mouth. I was shocked as shit. I’d never thought about a guy that way, and this kid – he was like my brother.” Dean shrugged.

“So? Did you two start dating?”

“Yeah, yeah. On and off for a while. He went off to college and, we picked it back up when he joined me on the road – we worked together. But uh, he’s gone now.”

Sid smiled sadly. “I’m sorry to hear that, Dean. He sounds like a great guy.”

“Oh, he was. My best friend. That’s the one memory I got of him that I just—I can’t forget.”


End file.
